


The Stone of Freyja

by Serena_chan



Category: White Collar
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-08-11
Updated: 2011-08-11
Packaged: 2017-10-22 12:32:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/238035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serena_chan/pseuds/Serena_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An ancient relic turns our favorite con artist into a cat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I just couldn't resist doing a cat!fic for this fandom. I'm still not entirely certain as to where I want it to go or when it will be finished, but here's what I have so far. (Warning: don't read if you don't like WIPs!)
> 
> Also, FYI, Freyja is the goddess of love, beauty, and fertility in Norse mythology. She is often depicted as riding a chariot drawn by cats.
> 
> Can alternatively be read here at my LJ: [Part 1](http://hourglass244.livejournal.com/23078.html), [Part 2](http://hourglass244.livejournal.com/23576.html), [Part 3](http://hourglass244.livejournal.com/23993.html), [Part 4](http://hourglass244.livejournal.com/24563.html)
> 
> Disclaimer: As usual, I own nothing.

Peter never would have believed it if he hadn't seen it with his own two eyes. Hell, he _still_ wasn't sure he believed it. One minute they had been searching through the victim's possessions - with Peter keeping a wary eye on Neal's hands - and the next his partner appeared to be shrinking. Neal only had time to let out a small yelp before he literally seemed to melt into the ground like the Wicked Witch of the West, leaving nothing behind but a pile of clothes.

Peter stood there gaping like a fish, mouth wide open but no sound coming out. Diana, who had looked up at Neal's cry, was gazing at the spot where the con used to be with an equally shocked expression on her face.

"Oh...my _god_!" she exclaimed, finally finding her voice. "What the hell - ?"

She stopped abruptly when the clothes on the floor started to move. A high-pitched, muffled cry of distress could be heard emanating from the heap of clothes before a tiny kitten poked its head out.

Peter leaned heavily against a nearby desk, his knees feeling weak. He watched as the small cat - black, he noted - clumsily crawled from the collar of Neal's shirt.

"Peter, look at its eyes!" Diana pointed.

The cat looked up at him, and Peter gasped. He'd only ever seen that sharp blue clarity reflected back at him from one person.

"N-Neal?" he choked out.

The kitten looked back at him and let out a long, distressed mewl.

 

****

 

"Tell me you're joking." Elizabeth looked at both her husband and Diana incredulously. When Peter had called her in the middle of the day and told her to meet him at home and to shut Satchmo up in one of the upstairs bedrooms, this was not what she'd been expecting.

"Is this the sort of thing that I would joke about," Peter asked, hands on his hips. Although his stance was defensive, his eyes were pleading with her to believe him.

"I wouldn't have believed it either, but I actually saw it happen, Elizabeth," Diana said quickly, jumping to her boss's defense.

Elizabeth nodded slowly, unable to discern any deception in her husband's face. She then turned to examine the kitten currently perched on her dining room table. Its tiny head was cocked to one side, blue eyes studying her reaction closely.

"Okay...right." She gave herself a little shake, forcing herself to focus. "Neal, sweetie, are you all right?"

Neal's head jerked up and down in an attempt at a nod, causing Peter to scoff, "Of course he's not all right! He's a cat!"

"Calm down, hon." Elizabeth realized that she was going to have to be the rational one until Peter stopped freaking out.

"We think that this is what he was holding when he...changed." Diana pulled a gold necklace, safely tucked into a plastic evidence bag, out of her purse.

Elizabeth peered closely at it. It was an ornate gold chain holding a small gold pendant. In the center was a green stone, probably jade, carved with a strange symbol.

"It looks old," she said at last. "I've never seen markings like that before."

"Neither have we," Diana told her.

Peter in the meantime had pulled out more evidence bags holding Neal's clothing and the contents of his pockets. Having retrieved the younger man's phone from one of the bags, he was scrolling through the list of contacts.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to figure out which number is Mozzie's," Peter told her. "We're going to need someone to examine this thing and tell us what the hell it is."

"I'll call him," Elizabeth said, pulling out her own phone.

Peter blinked in surprise. "How did you get his phone number?"

"He gave it to me when he swept the house for bugs," she said with a shrug. "We bonded."

"Great, now my wife is friends with two criminals," Peter muttered as Elizabeth left the room to make the call.

Diana pulled a pad of paper and a pencil out of her purse. "I'm going to copy down this design and take it back to the office to do some research."

Peter nodded, mind racing for a possible explanation as to why he and Neal wouldn't be returning with her. "Tell Hughes that Neal and I went home sick. We both had deli sandwiches for lunch. Say it's possible food poisoning."

"That should buy you a few days off," she agreed. "Let's just hope we can get this fixed before then. Can you imagine trying to tell Hughes what actually happened?"

"He'd have us in with the department shrink so fast our heads would be spinning."

"Not to mention launching a massive manhunt for Caffrey." Diana pocketed her sketch and turned to Neal. "Don't worry. We'll get this sorted out soon."

As Diana let herself out, Peter picked up the evidence bag with the pendant, glaring at it as though he could intimidate it into giving up all its secrets. Turning to Neal, the agent held the bag out to him for inspection.

"Are you _sure_ you've never seen anything like this before?" he asked for the second time that day.

The cat - _Neal_ , Peter reminded himself - shook his head no, and gave him a reproachful look.

Peter sighed, "Sorry." He took a seat at the table, locking eyes with Neal. "Diana's right. We will fix this," Peter reassured him.

"He's coming right over," Elizabeth said, reentering the room.

"Did he believe you?" Peter asked.

"I think so," Elizabeth frowned. "It's kind of hard to tell with him." She took a seat next to Peter and reached for Neal, picking him up and cuddling him close.

"Don't worry," she murmured. "You know Peter will find us some answers."

Neal meowed, presumably in agreement, and curled up in her arms. Peter supposed that he should object to the way the convict was snuggling with his wife, but given Neal's current condition Peter found it hard to care.

"He's purring," Elizabeth smiled, looking down at Neal who appeared to be dozing off. "You have to admit, he makes an adorable kitten."

"We are not keeping him, El," Peter said dryly.

They were interrupted from further conversation by a quick rap at the front door. Peter got up to let Mozzie in.

"All right, Suit, where is he?" The smaller man pushed his way into the house the second the door opened.

"In the kitchen with El," Peter told him, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice.

"Neal, Mozzie's here," Elizabeth said, gently waking him.

"Mrow!" Neal cried at the sight of his friend.

Mozzie adjusted his glasses, staring down at the cat. At last he took a seat and pulled out a pack of cards, laying out several face-up on the table.

"Neal, Monte Carlo," he said significantly.

Neal wiggled out of Elizabeth's arms and placed a paw on the Jack of Hearts. Moz nodded, putting away the cards.

"Okay, I'm convinced it's him," he said, pointedly ignoring Peter rolling his eyes. "Now, where's this necklace?"

"Here," Peter said, handing him the bag. "Just make sure to wear gloves if you handle it. I don't need two cats running around here."

Mozzie pulled a magnifying glass from his pocket and examined the pendant through the plastic. Peter hovered behind him impatiently, listening as the other man made soft 'hmmm'ing noises to himself.

"Well?" Peter prompted at last, unable to resist any longer.

"I'm not sure," Mozzie said. "I haven't seen anything similar to it. I'm going to have to take this and show it to a few - let's call them 'specialists' - before I can tell you anything."

"Fine. Take it," Peter said, having already considered this. "Just don't lose it, and for god's sake, _hurry_! Neal and I can only miss a few days of work before people start asking questions."

"I'll be as quick as I can, but only because this is for Neal. Don't go thinking I'm going to start doing you any favors." He looked pointedly at Peter, making it clear that he still didn't entirely trust the man.

"We really appreciate this, Moz," Elizabeth said tactfully.

Mozzie's expression softened as he turned to her. "I'll contact you as soon as I know anything. In the mean time, I suggest you lay low. We don't want Neal to end up as some crazy government scientist's new lab experiment."

Peter decided to ignore that last remark as he showed the other man out. He turned back to Elizabeth, surprised to find her gathering up her purse and keys.

"I need to stop by the office, and then run to the store," she told him, kissing him on the cheek. "Honey, try to be sensitive. Think about how hard this must be for Neal."

Peter sighed and watched her go, feeling a little unsettled. He'd only just gotten the hang of dealing with Neal when he was human. He had no idea how to treat him now that he was a cat.

"I swear you cause me more problems now then when I was chasing you," Peter told his partner in exasperation. "On the bright side, at least now you can't back-talk me."

"Meow!" Neal protested loudly.

"Behave, or I'll start making 'pet convict' jokes." Peter smiled at Neal in amusement. He'd never seen a cat roll its eyes before.

Peter picked Neal up and plopped him down on the couch before sitting beside him.

"Well," Peter began after a moment of awkward silence. "We could try to talk about this, bearing in mind that I'm not great with feelings conversations and you can't even answer me to tell me what I'm saying wrong...or we could watch TV."

He chuckled when Neal looked pointedly at the TV and laughed outright at the noise of protest that Neal made when he flicked on the set and it immediately went to ESPN. He sat the remote on the couch and placed Neal's paw on the button to scroll through the channels.

"Here, you pick the show." He watched with interest as Neal carefully manipulated the buttons before finally selecting a station.

" _Antiques Roadshow_? Really?" Peter asked in disbelief.

Neal was apparently trying to make a point by ignoring him, so Peter leaned back into the cushions with a resigned sigh. They watched for awhile in silence with Peter stealing secret glances at this companion. He couldn't believe something like this was actually happening. He kept thinking that if he just pinched himself hard enough he'd wake up to find this was all just some really bizarre dream.

Finally, Peter broke the silence. "Well, I suppose this is one way to get out of your tracker." He didn't need to look at Neal to know what kind of look he was getting.

"Speaking of your tracker, I don't think the Marshals will be able to tell you're out of it, but we need to make sure that it ends up at June's before the end of the day. If Hughes thinks you're sick then it'll make more sense for your tracker to stay there over the next few days."

Satchmo chose that moment to let out a long, sorrowful howl at being shut up for so long. Peter sighed.

"I guess the tracker's not the only thing that needs to go to June's. We can't keep Satch locked up for much longer, and I don't want you around him like this. El and I have tried to break him of chasing cats, but sometimes he forgets."

Peter hauled himself to his feet. "I'll pack an overnight bag. I can't exactly leave you alone right now."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Eh, I'm not too thrilled with this part, and I apologize at how short it is. I'm still kind of feeling my way through this genre. (I love cat fics, but this is my first time writing one.) Feedback is very much appreciated!
> 
> Disclaimer: As usual, I own nothing.

When they reached June's, Peter set Neal carefully on the couch before carrying his overnight bag and several plastic shopping bags over to Neal's table. Elizabeth had arrived home just as they'd been leaving and had handed Peter several bags of things she'd picked up at the store.

"Let's see what goodies El picked up for us," he said, pulling things out of bags.

Elizabeth had bought an eclectic mixture of things, some for Neal and some clearly designed to keep Peter occupied. There were several cans of tuna, a bottle of heavy cream, a six-pack of Peter's favorite beer, a couple of frozen dinners, a bag of chips, a litter box and cat litter, a grooming comb, some sports and news magazines, a stack of DVDs, a large toy mouse stuffed with catnip, and something that looked like a doormat made of carpet. Peter examined the label.

"Apparently this is to sharpen your claws on," he said, spreading it out on the floor. "El thinks of everything."

Peter put the cold stuff in the refrigerator before filling the litter box with litter and placing it in a corner near the bathroom. Neal had hopped down off the couch and was eying the litter box with distaste.

"Don't look at me like that," Peter said. "You're too small to use the toilet. Anyway, just be grateful that you're not the one who has to clean it out."

The evening passed rather uneventfully. They watched TV, interrupted only by Peter's few attempts to fill the silence with awkward conversation. In the end, he decided that silence really was best.

Dinner was an interesting affair. The agent had experimentally opened a can of tuna, and Neal had begun sniffing the air immediately as though the scent of the fish was the most interesting thing in the world. Peter had eaten his frozen dinner in amusement, watching as Neal ate his tuna as though it was fine cuisine from a fancy restaurant. That was definitely...new. The con usually didn't like anything that would linger on your breath, like tuna or deviled ham, but Peter supposed that being turned into a cat must have changed his appetite.

After he finished eating, Neal let out a large yawn. Peter realized that Neal's new kitten body probably needed more sleep than his human one, so he carried his partner to bed and told him to get some sleep. The younger man must have really been tired, because instead of protesting he simply curled up into a ball and fell asleep.

Peter spent the rest of the evening watching a documentary about house cats on Animal Planet, stealing guilty looks in Neal's direction the whole time. He had the feeling that if the younger man-turned-cat had woken up and seen what he was watching, he'd be offended. Still, after the tuna incident, the agent felt it necessary to learn more about the body his convict was currently occupying. He'd never had a cat before, only dogs, so Peter made a few notes as he watched, jotting down things like what felines shouldn't eat and how often it was normal for them to nap.

When it was over, Peter turned the set off and stashed his notes in his bag where Neal couldn't get to them before stripping down to his boxers and T-shirt. He only debated for a second before crawling into bed beside Neal, who looked up in surprise.

"I refuse to sleep on that horribly cramped couch when there's more than enough room over here for both of us," Peter informed him. "You take up a lot less room like this, and - hey! Don't you roll your eyes at me!"

Neal heaved a dramatic sigh and made a point of turning his back to Peter before going back to sleep.

 

****

 

Peter was awoken from a rather odd dream of chasing after Cat-Neal (who had a paintbrush in his mouth and was trying to forge a Manet), by soft little noises next to him. Neal was apparently having some sort of nightmare and was making these little whimpering noises in the back of his throat while his paws and tail twitched at random.

The agent winced as he debated what to do with him. He'd honestly been hoping that he'd awaken to find this whole thing a dream, but apparently someone up there didn't like him that much.

"Neal," Peter called, gently laying a hand on his small, furry body. "Hey, wake up, Neal."

Neal startled awake, jerking out from under Peter's hand, eyes darting around the room. He looked panicked and frightened, his breathing heavy, and Peter wondered what it was that he had been dreaming about.

"It was just a dream," the agent told him in what he hoped was a soothing voice. "Go back to sleep, okay?"

The con just looked at Peter and then down at his own front paws and let out a sorrowful 'mew' that broke Peter's heart a little. He realized that Neal, like Peter, had probably been hoping that this whole thing was just a dream, and that he'd awaken to find himself back in his own body.

"Hey, it's all right," the agent said, feeling the familiar panic creeping up on him that he felt whenever he had to deal with crying women or children. Normally, he'd just tell Neal to cowboy up, but given the circumstances, he felt that would probably be insensitive. "Don't - Don't cry, okay? We'll figure something out. I won't let you stay like this forever."

When the hopeless look didn't leave Neal's eyes, Peter scooped him up in his arms without thinking and settled him in the crook of his arm. The cat, now in his arms, looked about as surprised as Peter felt with his actions.

Deciding to salvage what little dignity he had left, the agent simply said gruffly, "If you tell _anyone_ about this, even Elizabeth, I'll throw your ass back in prison."

Seemingly reassured by the familiar threat, Neal curled up and closed his eyes. Peter felt an unfamiliar vibration travel down his arm and realized that the con was purring. The documentary he'd watched had said that cats tended to purr when they were happy or felt safe and secure.

Peter fell back asleep with a small smile on his face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story seems to be fighting me every step of the way, but I like the idea too much to abandon it. As always, feedback is much appreciated.
> 
> Disclaimer: As usual, I own nothing.

When Peter awoke the next morning, he felt a brief moment of confusion at his surroundings before the events of the previous day came crashing in on him. Sitting up, he looked around for his now-fluffy partner, but the other side of the bed was empty. A soft thumping sound caused him to peer over the edge of the bed, and he let out a surprised bark of laughter at what he found. Neal had Peter's tie from the previous day (which Peter had left hanging over the back of one of the chairs), and was rolling around on the floor with it, biting it and batting at it with his paws.

At the sound of the older man's laughter, Neal looked up at him, surprise and embarrassment written all over his face. He quickly tried to put some distance between himself and the tie, but ended up becoming tangled in it and tripping. Peter was laughing so hard that he was almost in tears, but he still managed to reach over the side of the bed and extricate his friend from the offending item of clothing.

"I'm sorry!" Peter laughed. The indignant look Neal was giving him was absolutely priceless. "I always knew you hated that tie, but I never thought you'd try to murder it."

Neal gave him a withering look and darted under the bed.

"Oh, come on!" Peter called after him. "Look, you're a kitten now. Kittens play with things. It's perfectly understandable!"

The only response he got was a soft growl from somewhere under the bed.

Leaving him there to sulk for the moment, Peter climbed out of bed and went to make a pot of coffee. He had the feeling that he'd need it.

Neal eventually came out of his hiding place just as Peter was finishing his breakfast. The agent opened a can of tuna for him and went to take a shower. When he was finished, he made quick calls to both Elizabeth and Diana.

"No news yet," Peter told Neal. "But it's still early days, and we haven't heard from Mozzie yet, either." He grabbed his laptop and went to sit over on the sofa.

"I'm going to do some research of my own. Here, play with this if you want something to do." He tossed Neal the stuffed toy mouse that Elizabeth had bought, delighting in the indignant noise the con made before looking down at it speculatively.

Peter rolled his eyes. "Look, if you won't tell anyone that I held you last night, then I won't tell anyone that you played with a toy mouse, okay?"

After a brief staring contest which Peter thought he might have won, Neal eventually made his way over to the toy and sniffed at it. He looked up at Peter in surprise.

"I think it has catnip in it," Peter said, in answer to his inquisitive gaze.

He turned his attention back to his screen and brought up his favorite search engine. Diana apparently hadn't had much luck digging through the Bureau's files on antique artifacts yesterday, but she promised to resume her search today. Peter decided to focus his searches on the strange symbols carved into the surface of the jewel.

He spared a quick glance up at Neal and had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing again. Neal was laying on his back, biting at the mouse and holding it still with his front paws while he kicked at it with his back legs.

An hour or so later, Peter felt like his eyes were beginning to go cross from looking through charts and lists of ancient languages. He was about to take a break when he finally saw something.

"Neal, take a look at this!" the agent called excitedly. "I'm still not sure what these larger symbols are, but I think these smaller ones are ancient Norse runes. Now, if I can just figure out... Uh, Neal?"

The younger man had jumped up onto the couch and climbed into Peter's lap, purring and rubbing against him.

"What the - oh." His eyes fell on the toy mouse. "That catnip must be pretty potent stuff, huh?"

In response, Neal nudged at Peter's hand with his cold nose.

"You seriously expect me to pet you?" Peter asked incredulously, although his hand was already stroking down Neal's soft fur. "Fine, but I want it noted that the idea of petting my partner is just plain weird, no matter what body you're in."

Neal purred, seemingly undaunted, and rolled over to have his belly rubbed.

"Hedonist," Peter accused fondly. He went back to his research with one hand, his other absently petting the purring bundle of fluff next to him.

Around noon Peter decided to take a break, stretch his legs, and call Diana. He left Neal in a catnip-induced slumber on the couch and took his cellphone out onto the balcony so he wouldn't disturb him.

"Please tell me you have something," Diana said, sounding frazzled. "You wouldn't believe the state the records are in down here, and our new clerk is absolutely useless!"

"The smaller symbols are Norse runes," Peter told her. "I haven't been able to find any record yet of what the bigger markings are."

"Well, that's something at least," the younger agent conceded. "At least I can narrow down my search. How's Neal doing?"

"Still furry. Oh, and he's discovered catnip."

"I see," Diana wasn't quite able to keep her laughter out of her voice.

"Yeah, you can thank Elizabeth for that," Peter groused. "How are things at the office?"

"Jones has been covering for me on our current case," Diana informed him. "I told him that I'm working on a special project for you. Oh, and Hughes said to take the weekend as well if you need it to 'get better.'"

"At the rate we're going, we might need it," sighed Peter. "I just hope Mozzie is having better luck than we are."

As Peter was hanging up, his phone beeped, letting him know that he had a text message. It was from Elizabeth and simply said: _'Come open front door.'_

The agent made his way downstairs, surprised to see his wife on the doorstep. She held up bags of takeout with a smile.

"Hey, hon, I brought lunch," she said, kissing him. "I rang the bell, but no one answered. Are you two here by yourselves?"

"Yeah, we got lucky," Peter said, taking the sacks from her and following her up the stairs. "June's away visiting relatives, and she gave the staff the week off. I'm not sure how we'd explain this to her, or if she'd even believe me."

Elizabeth stopped just outside Neal's door, and asked in a lowered voice, "So how is he today?"

"Physically, he fine. He had a nightmare and... I guess it was some kind of panic attack last night," Peter told her.

"Poor thing," she murmured. "I hope you didn't just tell him to cowboy up."

"I was sympathetic!" Peter protested. Elizabeth just gave him a skeptical look and swung the door open.

"Neal, lunch time. I ordered you salmon," she called, in what Peter considered to be on overly-bright voice.

Neal sat up, blinking sleepily, and let out a joyous mew when he saw his visitor. He hopped down off the couch and went to rub himself against her ankles, purring.

"Awww," Elizabeth crooned, swooping him up in her arms.

"I think he's still a little loopy from the catnip," Peter told her, grabbing them some drinks from the fridge. "Speaking of which, did you have to get him the toy mouse?"

"Well, he can't exactly have a glass of wine to unwind anymore, now can he?" she said, scratching the kitten in her arms behind his ears. "I thought catnip might be the next best thing."

Neal purred in agreement and snuggled closer, pleased with all the attention, and prompting Peter to yell, "Caffrey, stop flirting with my wife!"

 

****

 

Elizabeth showed up again that evening with an overnight bag and the simple explanation that she missed her husband. Peter suspected that she was really there in case Neal had another panic attack, but he was glad to see her just the same.

She and Neal spent the evening curled up on the couch watching something in French with subtitles. Peter quickly lost interest and took his beer, his laptop, and one of the sports magazines into the bedroom for some quiet. After thumbing through the magazine, he checked his email and grinned at what he saw there.

"El, Neal, look what Diana's found," he called, carrying his laptop back into the other room.

Elizabeth looked up from her place on the couch and put a finger to her lips. Neal was curled around himself on one of the cushions and was fast asleep. Peter motioned for his wife to join him the next room, and she did, pausing the movie first.

"What is it?" she asked, peering at the screen over his shoulder.

"Diana ran the big symbols that we couldn't figure out through an image recognition program at work. Here's what it found." He pointed to a picture of ancient stone carvings depicting a woman with long, flowing hair riding in a chariot drawn by cats. "Look at the symbol carved into the side of the chariot."

"That's the same marking as on the necklace, right?"

Peter nodded. "I don't know what it means, but we're getting closer to discovering the origin of the piece. Hopefully that will lead us to some answers on how to change Neal back."

"That's great, hon," she smiled and kissed him on the cheek, although Peter realized that her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"Peter, I've been thinking..." She sat down on the edge of the bed with a sigh. "I know that if there's a solution then you'll find it, but what if there isn't one to be found? What are we going to do if Neal is stuck like this forever?"

The agent took a seat next to her with a grave expression on his face. "I've been thinking about that, too, and I just don't know, El. Neal will never be truly happy like this." He took her hand and squeezed it, as much to reassure himself as it was to reassure her. "We'll take care of him, make him as happy as we can, and... I don't know what else. Satch will have to get used to cats, I guess. Hughes will think he ran, and we'll have to let everyone else think that, too. There's no way anyone would believe us."

Elizabeth threw her arms around him, and they sat there for awhile, just holding one another. Peter didn't want to worry her any more than she already was, but something else had been bothering him all day. Cats didn't live as long as humans. If they couldn't change Neal back, then his lifespan had just been shortened considerably.

Mentally shaking himself out of his stupor, he glanced at his watch. "Feel like turning in early tonight?"

"You go ahead," El told him. "I want to finish my movie first."

She made her way back to the couch and found Neal awake. "Tired, huh?" she asked, settling down next to him. "I bet you've had a long day. It can't be easy getting used to a new body."

Petting him, she let her eyes roam speculatively around the room. She never noticed before how sparse Neal's movie collection was, and from some of the titles, she suspected they actually belonged to Mozzie. There were tons of books in the room, but she wasn't sure how many were Neal's and how many belonged to June.

"You don't watch much TV, do you?" she asked. "What do you do to relax?"

Stretching, Neal hopped down onto the floor and made his way across the room. Elizabeth followed him curiously and found him staring longingly at a large wooden box next to his easel. Lifting the lid, she found tubes of oil paint, brushes, some drawing pencils, and a few sticks of charcoal.

"Oh, right," she murmured, and silently prayed that Neal would be able to pick up a paintbrush again one day. Picking him up, she whispered, "Peter will fix this, and I'll find something for you to occupy yourself with until he does."

 

****

 

After the movie was finished, Elizabeth carried a very sleepy Neal into the bedroom to find Peter already in bed asleep. She crawled in next to him and tucked herself into his side, and his arm automatically went around her shoulders. She set Neal down on Peter's chest and wrapped her arm around them both. It was nice, but she hoped for Neal's sake that there wouldn't be too many more nights like this.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: As usual, I own nothing.

Mozzie entered the small shop, wrinkling his nose as the strong scent of herbs hit his nose. Apothecaries like these had all died out in America, replaced by doctors with their hospitals and the occasional herbalist. The fact that this place even still existed in this day and age made him remember exactly why he loved Europe so much. Ignoring the woman behind the counter, he entered the room at the back of the shop where an acquaintance was waiting for him.

The man was old and frail in appearance. His white hair hung down past his shoulders, and the one eye that was still functional was blue and sharp.

"There you are," the man said, not one to bother with idle pleasantries. "Did you bring it?"

"Indeed I did." Reaching inside one of his jacket's many hidden pockets, he pulled out the pendant and handed it to the man. "Can you tell me what it is?"

"Patience," the old man chastised. "All good things come to those who wait."

 

****

 

Peter entered Neal's apartment, arms laden with shopping bags, and leaned heavily against the door. The day wasn't even half over, and he was already exhausted. After breakfast, Elizabeth had insisted on taking the morning off to do some shopping for Neal - at an art supply store no less!

"Neal? I'm back," Peter called. "I dropped El off at work, but she picked up some presents for you. If you like, you can have them after you eat lunch."

Neal trotted over to him, his eyes sparkling with curiosity and excitement. Peter only just managed to suppress the smile that was threatening to spread across his face at Neal's expression. Even as a cat, the agent found that he could usually tell what his partner was thinking.

While Neal ate lunch, Peter went about setting up the things that El had bought. Personally, he wasn't so sure about this, but he trusted his wife. If she said it was necessary then it must be something that Neal needed, even if it didn't seem that way to Peter.

Looking around the area where Neal kept his painting supplies, he found an old, paint-splattered sheet which he spread out on the floor and some rags that he placed nearby. Reaching for the shopping bags, he then proceeded to pull out the purchases and arrange them just as his wife had instructed him to. He laid a few of the canvas boards out on the sheet, and began squeezing paint out of the tubes and onto some paper plates. Then, he filled an old cup with water and looked around for his partner.

Neal had finished eating and was watching him with an unreadable expression on his face. Peter looked at him uneasily, wondering if this was one of those rare moments when his wife got it wrong.

"It's only kids' paint," Peter hurriedly explained. "So it'll wash out of your fur. El thought that maybe you could use your - er, paws, I guess to do an abstract or something. You can wipe them off on the rags every time you want to get a new color. When you're done, I'll give you a proper bath in the tub to get it all off."

He watched Neal's face closely, trying to find some clue as to what he was thinking. At last, he looked up from the paints, and Peter saw that not only was Elizabeth right, she was a genius. The younger man's eyes shone in the way they only did when he was genuinely touched by something.

"Right, well, I'll just leave you to it then," the agent said, forcing himself to turn away and go watch some sports on the television. He knew that if he stayed nearby he wouldn't be able to stop himself from watching, and even though Neal usually liked to show off, experience had taught Peter that he liked his privacy while he was painting.

The agent had made it almost all the way through a rerun of last weekend's baseball game when he finally heard Neal meowing at him. He made his way back over to the now paint-covered kitten sitting beside two completed canvases.

The first looked like Neal had been simply testing out what he could do. The background was filled with bright splotches and smears of paint in various colors. The foreground was filled with paw prints, and it looked like Neal had dipped each individual paw in a different color and run across the page several times. There were also a few random scratches in the colors where the white of the canvas showed through and it looked like tiny claws had been at work there.

The other painting was completely different. While the first had been bright and colorful, perhaps Neal expressing his happiness at being able to paint, the second was more dark and brooding. Dark shades of color were smoothed over it and covered with a few swipes of bright red. In the center was a single black paw print.

"These are great, Neal," Peter said with feeling. "I mean, they're really _good_!"

His partner merely looked at him with a slightly smug expression that clearly said, 'Yes, I know.'

Peter allowed himself a few more moments to examine the paintings before he scooped the fluffy con artist up in his arms. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

He ran a small amount of warm water in the bathtub and used soap to carefully work the paint out of Neal's fur. Afterward, he rubbed him dry with a towel and combed out his fur with the pet comb that Elizabeth had bought. Neal seemed to thoroughly enjoy the whole process, and Peter chalked it up to all the attention he was receiving.

He was just settling his tired partner down for a nap when his cellphone rang. He answered it, and El's excited voice rang out in his ear.

"Mozzie just called, and he wants us all to meet at Neal's place tomorrow evening. Peter, I think he's found us some answers!"


End file.
